


Seal of the Nine Hells

by LionZoned



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionZoned/pseuds/LionZoned
Summary: Strange things stir in the town of Ramshorn, and a group of strange adventurers converge together by chance, or perhaps by fate. A homebrew 5e campaign.





	Seal of the Nine Hells

Most people who approach adventurers in taverns looking for a exciting tale of adventure will very likely hear one similar thing. Well, depending on the adventurer’s level of inebriety, that sound might be a tankard of half-drunk warm ale smashing against the side of their skull. However, _if_ they are lucky to speak to a somewhat sober or friendly adventurer, the sentiment that would probably come up one way or another is how time slows down during the heat of battle.

No matter how many times Volturnus springs into the fray of combat, he’s always amazed by how true that sentiment is. Adrenaline surged through his blood, heightening his senses and slowing time to a crawl, allowing him to take in so much more than he normally could. Each beat of his heart thundered like a drum, echoing steadily inside his head. The scent of the wood and earth of the forest mixed into an almost cloyingly sweet aroma. He even swears that the air felt different, almost like it’s electrified by anticipation. He sees his foes with crystal clarity, a massive horde of shambling figures wreathed in long, pointed needles, seemingly content with shuffling unhurriedly towards them for now, slowly surrounding them. Volturnus and his companions remained still, not wanting to provoke the needle blights. The blights soon completed their formation, a loose circle that closed off the adventures to a small portion of the forest. Everything suddenly became eerily quiet, like the forest itself waited with baited breath. Volturnus counted the beats in his head as his companions braced themselves.

**THUMP…… THUMP…… THUMP……. THU-**

A brazen bird from somewhere above their heads gave a solitary screech and the needle blights surged forward from all sides, a massive writhing wave of plant monsters threatening to engulf the adventurers. And so it began. Two of Volturnus’ companions rushed forward to meet the blights, and one appeared content to walk leisurely toward her section of the circle.

The first to make contact with the blights was a built, gruff-looking human with dark close-cropped hair clad in a solid suit of metal armor that looked like it definitely seem its fair share of fights. He shouted what seemed to be a war cry and pulled out a pair of rapiers each emblazoned with an insignia from sheaths that hung from either side of his belt. The first rapier ran straight through the chest of the first blight, and he flung his second rapier into the head of the second, yanking it out before it could fully collapse and using it to slice an arm off of the third blight which writhed and gave a silent scream, it’s other arm beating weakly against his armor. Even to the untrained eye, this man was definitely a battle-hardened individual, his eyes calculating shifting from one target to the next, each swing precise and accurate, never wasting energy on any unnecessary movement.

To the veteran’s left, one of the strangest adventurers Volturnus have ever seen (and believe him, he knew strange) engaged in his own fight, his raven feather cloak billowing behind him like shimmering obsidian wings. He wore a long, stylish overcoat made of studded leather along with metal gauntlets and greaves with intricate carvings that matched the iron helmet he wore on his head that gleamed in the blood red light of the setting sun. He ran his hand across the sheath of his weapon which appears to have a larger than average cross guard and hilt. The sheath itself seemed bladed, as his hand drew back with a thin line of blood across his palm. He drew his saber and a long blade sheathed in a ghostly flame cleaved a blight in half and promptly set boths halves on fire. A blight tried to strike him from behind, but he pointed a compact crossbow with alterations at it with his other hand and shot it in the head without even looking. He seemed to almost be enjoying himself, occasionally giving a bark of laughter muffled slightly by his helm.

To the right of the veteran, the woman still seemed content with her leisurely stroll, her left hand resting comfortable on the sheath of her sword even as the blights surged towards her. She certainly looked exotic, from no culture that Volturnus had seen or heard of. Her clothes comprised of short-sleeved, full length robes that seemed to be made of silk dyed black with gold trimmings around the collar and sleeves that match her raven hair, tied in a high ponytail. A red sash tied around her waist kept her robes secured tightly and adds a splash of color to her otherwise dark apparel. She has pale skin with delicate facial features that betrayed no hint of fear or even excitement. A white scale lies in the middle of her forehead matching the white horns sprout from her head where her ears would have been, strange features on an otherwise normal looking human. As the blights leaped towards her from all sides, intent on filling her with countless holes, Volturnus had almost yelped out a warning. Before he could shout, a flash of steel surrounded her in a whirlwind of death and the group of blights that were leaping towards her all landed on the ground in pieces. It happened in a second, and she was already sheathing her blade again, the long steel glinting dangerously in the red light before retreating comfortably back in its sheath. She then calmly walked towards the next group of blights.

A rustle of leaves from a tree towards the left of Volturnus caught his attention. A barrage of arrows soared towards a batch of blights from the canopy of the tree and pierced their prickly bodies, felling them. An elf hung upside down from a branch of the tree, her long golden hair a stark contrast to her earthly garments. Her armor and clothes were myriad shades of brown and green, blending together seamlessly into an effective camouflage that melds her perfectly into the forest around her. She clutched a beautiful bow made of a grained light brown wood with sprigs of mistletoe sprouting along its length. A blight shot a bunch of wicked looking needles toward her, but a flame burst into life in her palm and launched itself towards the blight, burning the needles out of the air and singeing a hole into the blight that tried to impale her. She dropped to the ground, doing a flip and releasing another mote of fire in the air that incinerated another blight before gracefully landing on her feet. She drew an arrow from her quiver and stabbed it quickly into a blight that got too close before pulling it out and firing it into another group of blights. Her movements were fluid and graceful, and she radiated a wild aura of regality, a primal force of nature.

Somewhere to the right of Volturnus, a surge of blights rushed closer. As they dashed under a particularly tree, a large figure crashed down onto them, stomping two flat under its feet. A half orc with a bandana wrapped around his head shouted as he whipped out two razor sharp daggers, slicing the blights around him with astounding speed, his fangs bared in a fierce snarl. Volturnus was surprised at the agility of the half orc, his leather clad, huge, muscular frame betraying one’s initial expectations as he ducked and weaved around the blights’ needles and strikes. The half orc’s feat of nimbleness almost looked like a dance of sorts, leaping and striking almost playfully with precise strikes. The half orc shot Volturnus a glance, growled and flung a dagger straight at him. Volturnus gave a start of surprise as his eyes widened, watching the dagger streak dangerously close to his face, feeling a gust of air as it passed his cheek. Volturnus whipped around and saw a blight crumple to the ground, the dagger sunk in its face. The half orc yelled “PAY ATTENTION!”, before snatching a needle out of the air streaking towards him, sinking it into a nearby blight and leaping back into the fray.

Right. Volturnus blushed, slightly embarrassed. He turned his attention back to his section of the circle of blights, and noticed they were much nearer than he thought. He tapped into the immense power of his mind, churning like rough seas. Needles that flew towards him bounced off of the invisible, thin force field that he summoned around his body. Volturnus doesn’t wear armor, only sporting his usual clothes; a simple open red vest and tan breeches, with a brown sash tied around his waist. Volturnus’ powers were still pretty new and foreign to him, but these he had somewhat gotten the hang of them over the past few months. Volturnus’ powers weren’t the only thing that people will agree were strange though. His skin had the blueish hue of the sea and random geometric patterns of white lines that spread all across his body. His stark white hair floated in the air, looking permanently submerged in water. All of these physical features he had thanks to his runaway genie mother, her influence of elemental water as evident as the sun in the sky. He tapped again into the vast pool of psionic power in his mind, and thrust his arms out, conjuring a big wave of water that battered violently into the group of blights rushing towards him, sweeping them away and leaving them unmoving and soaked on the now damp earth. A lone blight managed to avoid getting washed away by clinging onto a tree and leapt towards Volturnus, its needle riddled arms outstretched. Volturnus reached out with his mind finding the simple, basic mind of the blight and shattered it, feeling its psyche crumble under his psychic touch. It writhed soundlessly in the air and collapsed behind him in the dirt.

The battle couldn’t have lasted over a minute. There were mounds of blights everywhere in that portion of the forest. One might even feel sorry for them if it wasn’t for the fact that they were threatening to destroy the nearby town of Ramshorn. The adventurers were exhausted but the adrenaline still coursing through their veins gave them a sense of post-battle euphoria. The veteran grunted in approval and said “Good job team. Now let’s head back to Lilith.” As they started to head back to town, Volturnus took a moment to dump half of his waterskin over his head, letting the cool water seep into his clothes and soothe his mind. He watched the backs of his new compatriots with a smile as they trudged towards town and rushed to catch up, thinking to himself, “Surely there can’t be a stranger group of people than _this_ bunch.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a homebrew campaign that my friend had come up with! We actually haven't started yet, but he had told us that we had met while doing a job for someone in town, getting rid of needle blights. This prologue is my imagination of how it might have happened in the POV of my character, Volturnus. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
